


The Bedroom Brawl

by youhavebeenwarmed



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Consent Issues, D/s elements, Ed is worse, Jim is bad at communicating, M/M, Minor Choking, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, bottom ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youhavebeenwarmed/pseuds/youhavebeenwarmed
Summary: Ed decides to show Jim who’s the boss in the bedroom.It doesn’t go the way he planned.





	The Bedroom Brawl

 

 

Jim knew the moment he said the wrong thing.

In his defense, it wasn’t easy getting his lines right when he was sleeping with the man he was supposed to arrest.

Jim shoved the Riddler up against the brick wall, the grime of the alleyway scraping off on his green suit.

Ed gasped at the impact, but then laughed, eyes bright beneath the rim of his hat.

“Save some of that energy for back at your place.”

Jim’s voice was almost a growl. “Do you know how close I was to having to actually arrest you that time?”

“You’d be bored if I didn’t present you with a challenge.”

“I _specifically_ told you no crowds.”

“No one got hurt.” Ed’s eyes flickered over him, and he frowned, but in puzzlement rather than contrition. “You’re not actually mad, are you?”

“You broke the rules.”

“Of course, I did. It’s a lot more fun that way.” Ed leaned forward, his voice dropping as if he were sharing a secret. “You know you like it too. I mean, you don’t want to go back to being Captain Vanilla, do you?”

_Captain Vanilla_. Jim’s shoulders tensed, his fingers tightening on Ed’s arms. “What were you doing talking to Barbara?”

“Relax, I stopped in for a drink and she likes to talk. And all she really did was make it clear how little she actually knows about you.”

“And you do?”

“Roll your eyes at me all you want, but I know exactly what it is that makes you so compelled to solve the mysteries I create for you. You like the thrill, the danger of—”

“Or maybe it isn’t about me at all.”

Ed scoffed. “Oh, what, you think I secretly want to get caught?”

“Maybe.” Jim leaned in until he could feel Ed’s breath warm against his skin. “Or maybe you want to be put over my knee and spanked.”

Ed gasped, jerking slightly. “That is most certainly _not_ it. At all.” A faint redness spread across his face and neck.

“You don’t have to commit a crime to get my attention.”

“You mean you’d actually prefer something as humdrum as a phone call?”

“At least then I wouldn’t have to file paperwork every time I got laid.”

Ed stiffened as if he’d been struck, and his expression shuttered.

“You can unhand me now.”

Jim frowned. “I didn’t mean—”

“Let go.”

Jim did as he asked. He tried to think of a way to take it back without making things worse. He was still angry, but he knew how touchy Ed could be about his plans.

Ed straightened his coat with a flick of his wrists, as if to dislodge the memory of Jim’s hands.

“Well,” Ed said, “then at least we finally understand one another.”

“That’s not—” Jim broke off in a cough, choking on a sudden and theatrical burst of green smoke.

By the time he could see again, Ed, of course, was gone.

 

#

 

It started with Jim’s hand around Ed’s throat.

Jim had chased the Riddler through the empty rows of seats at the theater, onto the stage and behind the curtain. A brief hesitation on the Riddler’s part over which way to turn, and Jim tackled him, pinning him to the floorboards.

But before he could cuff him and read him his rights, the Riddler managed to twist loose just enough to sink his teeth into Jim’s forearm.

Hissing in pain, Jim locked a hand around the other man’s neck.

He hadn’t meant to choke him, he hadn’t squeezed, he’d only wanted to make him let go and to give himself a moment to recover, but the Riddler had gasped, the fight swiftly gone from him as he collapsed against the floor. His eyes were bright, glassy as if he’d retreated somewhere inside himself.

Jim was startled by the response, by the sudden helplessness, and then he wasn’t looking at the Riddler anymore, but just Nygma— _Ed_ , the same guy who made bad jokes and had got him to try fondue.

Jim let go. “Are you OK? Can you breathe?”

Ed’s eyes still weren’t focused, and his breathing was labored.

“Hey, look at me.” Jim patted his cheek, and slowly Ed seemed to return to the present. “Talk to me.”

“Y-yes.” Ed coughed. “OK.”

“Damn it, Ed, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Apparently, nothing. Now.” He looked up at Jim, He used the hand Jim wasn’t holding down to rub at the bruises that were already starting to form on his throat. “It was supposed to be a full house tonight.”

“Yeah, figured out your clue. Evacuated the theater before you got here.”

Ed smirked at him, and only a trace of lingering brightness in his eyes spoke of his reaction from before. When he spoke, his tone was playful, and if it had come from anyone other than Ed, he would have said flirty.

“You always were a little less limited than the rest of the force.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Because anyone who could catch you would have to be?”

“Something like that.” Ed shrugged as best he could in Jim’s grasp. “Well, no harm no foul then. No reason not to let me go.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“No one would have gotten harmed. They’d have just been relieved of their wallets and been spared the performance of a truly insipid play.”

“I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Well, there are other things you could do with me.”

This time his tone was unmistakably flirtatious and Jim frowned, but before he could demand to know what Ed was playing at, Ed kissed him.

As much as Jim would like to say that he’d stopped him, that he’d flipped him onto his stomach and put the cuffs on him—he didn’t.

Instead he froze.

A few minutes later when Harvey arrived with backup, Jim told him that the Riddler had slipped away. He didn’t have to fake his regret.

On the way home, after having declined Harvey’s offer of a round at the bar to commiserate their loss, Jim kept replaying the events at the theater over and over in his mind. There was one thing he couldn’t let go of—that Ed had _closed his eyes_ when they’d kissed—almost as if he’d meant it.

Jim wondered what would have happened if he’d kissed him back.

He expected it to be one of those questions. The kind that went unanswered. One that he’d still be thinking back on years from now with a heavy dose of “what if.”

Or he would have, if when he arrived home, Ed hadn’t been waiting in his apartment.

 

#

 

It became a pattern. A clue would arrive at the station. The GCPD would manage to solve it and arrive just in the nick of time to prevent any actual crime from taking place. It was disruptive, but it wasn’t particularly harmful or deadly.

Jim tried to tell himself he wasn’t rationalizing it. Just like he tried to insist that the riddles weren’t custom tailored for him, and there was no reason other than luck that he had a higher than average solve rate.

It certainly didn’t have anything to do with the thrill he got in finding the culprit waiting for him after each incident.

After their fight in the alley, Jim didn’t expect Ed to be waiting for him in any sort of romantic mood, but he’d thought maybe Ed would be so angry, he’d show up just to tell him off.

He didn’t.

The next morning, Jim found himself glancing around, looking for some sign he’d missed the night before. A clue for him to solve, or even just a note listing all the things he’d done wrong, but there was nothing. He had no way to contact Ed, and he suspected that Ed no longer wanted to make the effort.

It had lasted four weeks, six visits, and that was longer than any of his recent flings. But that hadn’t made it a good idea. It was probably for the best that one of them had come to his senses.

Still, he was sad to see him go. No more gangly figure stealing Jim’s sleep pants and criticizing the contents of his fridge, or bragging about how impressed Jim would be with his cooking if only he had time for such things. No more occasionally waking up to riddles and cupcakes on days when Ed hadn’t been over the night before.

Jim knew he probably should have found the breaking in to be a gross violation of his privacy, but the truth was he’d miss it. It had kept things interesting, kept him on his toes.

Three days passed with no word from Ed, and Jim began to feel like a terrible cop for the thrill he got whenever a call came in, hoping it would be a clue, only to discover it was just another crime being reported.

He needed to take a cue from Ed and let it go.

 

#

 

Jim jerked awake. There was music playing in his apartment—a female singer, an older style, 60s maybe. It wasn’t a song he owned.

He tried to sit up, only to find his wrists were shackled to the headboard.

“Good morning, Jimbo.”

In the dim light, Ed looked sinister. He was in his green suit and hat, only instead of his cane he held some sort of wooden oar, or—no, a paddle. It looked heavy, solid, and would have been considered large even by fraternity standards. Down the front was carved a large question mark.

“What is this?” Jim demanded. He yanked on the restraints, wincing when they dug into his wrists.

“Hmm, since it’s only 5am, I can’t get after you for sleeping in. I haven’t even been to bed, so that _would_ be hypocritical of me. I’ll have to choose something else to punish you for.”

“Take these off me.”

“What else could we use…” Ed tapped the flat of the wood against his palm as his eyes swept over Jim’s form, lingering on his bare chest. “Well, you’re definitely underdressed.”

Jim took a deep breath to try to control his temper. “Let me go, Ed.”

“Don’t worry, I put safety first. You can take them off yourself.”

Jim twisted to look at the cuffs. He was surprised to see that true to Ed’s word, there was a combination lock built into each manacle, and Jim had just enough slack to move the small dials. A quick spin showed they were numbered from zero to nine.

“What’s the combination?”

“You haven’t even heard about the rest of our game.”

Jim glanced back just in time to see Ed smirk at him and smack the paddle harder across his palm.

It probably should have inspired fear. An implement that size and weight would cause serious damage. But it didn’t.

It made him furious.

“It _does_ have a bit of a bite,” Ed continued. “But, you seem to think you’re tough. Tougher than someone like _me_ anyhow, so let’s see how you do.”

“I want the combination.”

“You might even find you like it.”

“ _Now_. Or when I get out of here, I’ll bend you over and use that thing on you.”

Ed shivered slightly at the threat. He hid it quickly, but not before Jim caught it.

“That most certainly won’t be happening,” Ed said. “ _Ever_. But I’ll tell you.”

Of course, it was a riddle.

“Once I was given. Later, changed. But you’ll know me from when you locked me away.”

Jim’s brow creased as he turned over the words. Given—name. Whose? Ed’s, he almost always made things about himself. Edward Nygma. Changed… The Riddler? When locked away—Arkham. It was still only _Ed_ at that point—no, wait. There was also his designation: D-171.

Jim glanced at the cuffs. There were four dials with only numbers. Letter substitution then: 4171.

Instead of testing it, Jim looked back to see what Ed was doing.

Ed smiled at his hesitation. “Having trouble figuring it out? Don’t worry, that’s to be expected while your mind is occupied with more pressing matters.”

Jim took a breath. Losing his temper now wasn’t going to do any good. That could wait until he got loose.

The song changed and Ed frowned. “We’re not supposed to be on that one yet.” He shot Jim a wry look. “You talked so much, you put us behind schedule. I’ll have to punish you for that too.” His voice lifted at the last, as if he thought what he’d said was funny.

He turned to look at the stereo. “Your set up is far from intuitive. You need a newer system. And better speakers, you can’t just sit them on a table like this either, it’s better to...”

The sound of Ed’s prattle was so much less interesting than the click of the handcuff springing open. It was followed quickly by the second one.

Jim slid out of bed. He was wearing only his pajama bottoms, and his bare feet padded quietly on the floor as he approached.

Ed had set the paddle down and was bent slightly at the waist as his fingers hovered over the buttons. He was relaxed, not at all concerned that Jim would get free any time soon. That tendency for overconfidence was bound to eventually get him caught, or hurt, or worse. It was something that usually worried Jim. But not tonight.

Ed was still talking. “Having a soundtrack for this might seem a bit theatrical, I know, but it will also help cover the sound.”

Jim waited for Ed to finally find the song he wanted and turn around.

Ed gasped at the sight of him. “Jim, wait!” He stepped back, bumping into the table. “There’s no reason to act rashly.”

Jim seized Ed by the upper arm, ignoring his attempts to pull away. He dragged him back to the bed, grabbing his own handcuffs on the way. He pushed Ed facedown on the mattress, and cuffed his wrists the same way his own had been only moments before.

Ed swallowed nervously, he looked like he was searching for words, but Jim cut him off before he could speak.

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Ed looked up in alarm. “You’re not calling the police—I mean, obviously, you are the police, but you’re not—”

“I’m going to the bathroom. And when I get back we’re going to _talk_.”

Ed winced as if struck. Jim could sympathize. That had never been a phrase he’d liked hearing either. It usually meant there was something they wanted him to change. Or that he was getting dumped.

Ed probably didn’t expect to fare much better. He’d think Jim was going to either turn him in or else throw him out and tell him never to come back. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

Jim paused to shut the music off on the way to the bathroom. He wanted to be able to hear if Ed tried anything.

He left the door ajar as he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, and made a concentrated effort to calm down.

What the hell did Ed think this was going to accomplish?

He ignored Jim for three days and then he did _this_. The sheer lack of consideration, of respect, the total lack of effort to communicate—

Really, that was what it came down to. For someone who talked an awful lot, Ed didn’t know how to say what he meant. Not that Jim was great at that either, but he wasn’t the one who’d broken into his lover’s house and tied him up. And this was all because he’d insulted Ed’s games, which, admittedly, he shouldn’t have done, but there were better ways to bring it up.

He dried his hands and decided he was as calm as he was going to get.

He exited the bathroom and saw that Ed had stayed where he’d put him, lying on his stomach, all long lines and angles in his green suit. His shoulders stiffened as Jim approached.

Jim stooped to pick up Ed’s hat from the floor. He returned it to his head, completing the picture.

Then he picked up the paddle.

Ed’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do?” He rolled onto his side, so his back was facing away from Jim.

“You were going to paddle me,” Jim accused.

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure.” Jim slapped the wood against his palm, much the way Ed had earlier, and he was gratified to see Ed flinch.

“Not for real.” A hint of a whine had crept into Ed’s voice. “Just a love tap. To see if you liked it. I mean, you’re the one who brought up spanking in the first place.”

Jim blinked at that. “You’re blaming _me_ for this?”

Ed shrugged.

Jim glowered. “Alright, that’s it.”

“What’s it?” Ed asked quickly, his voice rising.

Jim ignored the question and reached out to carefully remove Ed’s glasses.

“Why did you do that?” Ed asked, blinking at Jim as he placed them on the nightstand.

“So you don’t break them.”

Ed grimaced. “You’re not really going to paddle me? It’s—it’s far too big, it was just to scare you.”

“You deserve it.”

“ _Jim._ ”

He relented. “I’m just going to use my hand. Although I might give you one swat with this to avoid making a liar out of me.”

“I’m OK with you lying.”

Jim snorted at that. He went to the stereo to hit play, before he moved to sit beside Ed on the bed.

Ed peered at him. “You turned it back on, why?”

“It’s good for covering the sound.” Jim watched Ed wince at having his words thrown back at him, before he added, “Besides, I want to see what you picked out for me. Now, get back on your stomach.”

Jim expected some sort of protest, but Ed only sighed and did as he was told.

Deciding not to think too much about what that meant right now, Jim set the paddle down on the floor. He lifted Ed’s jacket up and out of the way, folding it over his back. He patted the seat of the green pants, and Ed flinched at the contact.

Jim brought his hand down in a firm smack.

Ed jerked but otherwise held still.

Jim swatted him a second time. He wanted to use a little more force, but didn’t want to hit too hard without seeing the effect it was having. There was a solution for that.

Jim reached under Ed to undo his fly.

“Wait, what are you—” Ed squirmed away from his hands. “Cut that out!”

“I need to see how hard I’m hitting you.”

“You could just _not_ hit me.”

“No, you’ve earned this.” He slid Ed’s pants and underwear down, exposing the pert swell of his ass. He ran a hand over it appreciatively before he caught himself.

Ed groaned. He buried his face in the gap between his arms. “This is so humiliating.”

He was cute like that, it was so far from his usual arrogance, and Jim had to tamp down a wave of fondness. He was determined to remain stern.

He turned to put an arm across Ed’s back, so that he could pin him in place. He wouldn’t be able to see his face anymore, but it gave him a clear view of his target.

Jim began a steady rhythm of blows, stinging and firm, but not too hard, just enough to make Ed shift and grunt beneath his grasp.

“Tie me up without permission again, and I _will_ paddle you, you got that?”

“Ow—yes, fine, I promise—ah—no more surprises.”

“I know you were mad at me. You could have come by to talk.”

“And you’d have wanted me to?” There was an edge of bitterness to Ed’s voice.

“Yes.”

Ed went quiet, other than the occasional gasp that could be heard above the slap of skin on skin.

“I want your phone number,” Jim said.

“This is hardly the time—” Ed yelped as Jim smacked him with more force.

“I won’t share it with anyone else. But we can talk about that later.”

Jim increased the pace as he continued to deliver swat after swat. Ed squirmed, his breathing becoming harsher.

“You don’t have to hit so hard!” Ed whined.

“Beg me to stop.”

“Ah—Jim, don’t—”

“You know what to say.” Jim tightened his arm around Ed’s waist, he was starting to kick, although the movements were hampered by his pants around his thighs.

“Jim, please, I _can’t_.” Ed’s voice broke.

“You can.”

Ed growled at him. And then he whimpered.

“Please stop!”

Jim stopped.

He rubbed his hand over the skin of Ed’s ass, it was red and warm to the touch. He heard a soft sniffling sound.

Jim released Ed so he could move to lie beside him. He tried to see Ed’s face, but it was too buried. Ed’s hat had mostly fallen off, and Jim set it beside Ed’s glasses.

“Look at me.”

Ed gave a shaky sigh, but then did as asked. Jim felt a jolt to see there were tears on his face, a lot more than he’d expected.

“Are you—I didn’t—”

“It’s not that, it’s…” Ed closed his eyes as if to gather his thoughts. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

Jim wrapped an arm around him. “No.” He kissed him.

Ed kissed back, his breath hitching. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I said stupid things. It was my fault too.” Jim ran his hand up Ed’s back. “Let me uncuff you.”

“Wait.”

Jim looked at him in confusion. “Why?”

“Fuck me first.”

Jim inhaled sharply. “Even after…”

“Yes, I, um.” Ed looked down and swallowed.

“You sure?”

“I need this.”

Jim kissed him again, deeper this time, and he could feel Ed’s enthusiasm in the press of his lips, his tongue.

Jim parted from him just long enough to get what he needed from the nightstand, then he reached to remove Ed’s pants the rest of the way, only for Ed to stop him.

“Leave them on.”

Jim raised his brow at the change in tone. “You being bossy now?”

“Um, no. Just, I want it to be like how it was when you…” He couldn’t seem to be able to make himself finish.

But Jim understood. He slid his own sleep pants off and straddled Ed’s thighs.

Jim slicked them both, and pressed in slowly, it had been less than a week, but Ed was keyed up, tight. Jim stretched out on top of him, nuzzling the short hairs at the nape of Ed’s neck as he gave him a moment to adjust.

“I’m glad you came back,” Jim said.

Ed made a soft sound, and Jim thought that was the most he was going to get in response, and that that was OK, but then Ed surprised him.

“I missed you.”

Despite how it had started, sex was more affectionate than it had been before, if a bit possessive. With his wrists bound, Ed couldn’t touch himself and had to rely on Jim for his pleasure. Ed didn’t seem to mind, and he moaned appreciatively as Jim’s hands slid under his shirt, tracing his ribs before moving further down his front.

Jim was thorough, working Ed up until he was mindlessly pushing back against him, pleading with Jim to let him finish. He kept it up, until eventually it was too much for Jim too, and then he was thrusting in, hard and fast. It wasn’t long before he heard the man beneath him cry out as he came. It was enough to push Jim over the edge as well, and he found himself groaning loudly, his hips slapping against Ed’s ass as he emptied himself deep inside him.

Jim withdrew carefully and collapsed onto the bed. He wanted to go back to sleep for the hour he had left before work, but he needed to take care of things first.

“One second and I’ll let you go.”

“Don’t bother.”

Before Jim could question what he meant, there was a series of clicks, and then Ed was snuggling in his arms—free of cuffs.

Jim frowned. “Ed—”

“You prefer me mysterious. Remember that.”

Jim groaned. “That’s what got you into this mess.”

“Maybe it worked out exactly according to my plans.”

Startled, Jim looked at him, but then burst out laughing when he caught sight of Ed’s grin.

“It’s almost time for breakfast,” Ed said.

Jim shook his head. “We can sleep for another fifty minutes. Cereal is fast.”

“I could make you something better.” Ed’s voice had become serious, maybe a touch self-conscious. “Give me a moment to go through your cabinets and—”

“I want you to stay.” Jim tightened his arms around him. He could hear his heartbeat. It was a little fast, but steady, strong. “We can get up later.”

Ed wasn’t willing to give up. “I enjoy cooking, and not to brag, but I’m good at it. I’m sure I can find something—”

“Make me a list. I’ll pick up the ingredients on the way home for lunch. You can show me what you can do.”

“You’re letting me stay here, while you’re gone?” Ed said, as if he hadn’t been letting himself in whenever he felt like it anyway.

“You said you hadn’t been to bed yet.” Jim shrugged. “You’ll need sleep.”

Slowly, Ed smiled, and something was different from his grin a moment before, and he pressed his face into the pillow as if he wanted to hide whatever it was.

It was adorable. It was then that Jim new that he was _lost_.

“OK,” Ed said finally, “but on one condition.”

“What?” Jim knew better than to say _name it_.

“I’ll do my own shopping. You just be here at twelve o’clock?”

Jim could happily agree to that. “Deal.”

They lay together for a while, Ed’s head on his chest, when Jim realized that the music had stopped. He hadn’t really paid any attention to it, although from what he’d heard, most of the songs weren’t ones he’d have recognized anyway.

“Later,” Jim said, “you’re going to have to play that playlist for me again, and tell me why you chose the songs you did.”

“That’s really not necessary.” Ed sounded embarrassed.

“After you went through all that trouble picking it out—”

“I was _upset_.”

Jim smirked. “Even so—”

Ed grabbed Jim’s face and drew him into a kiss. Jim grunted at the suddenness of it, but then wrapped his arms around Ed’s back, pulling him in tighter.

Ed pushed away first, returning to his place snuggling against Jim’s chest. “Drop it.”

Jim huffed in amusement, but decided to let it go. For now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Bruises and Bitemarks" by Good With Grenades. After hearing it, I couldn't stop imaging Ed as the singer, and that he just isn't nearly as big and bad and dangerous as he thinks he is :p
> 
> Much love to [RowanBaines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines) for helping me out with some much needed feedback!


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